At Your Request (Apart from the Crowd 0.5)(21)
Chapter
Seven
Having no idea what she could possibly say to that, Wilhelmina found herself spared any response at all when Permilia suddenly appeared by her side. She was clutching one of the pink boxes to her chest but seemed to forget all about that box as she launched herself into the midst of Wilhelmina’s conversation.
“Honestly, Mr. Rutherford, don’t you realize that by speaking to Miss Radcliff in such a cryptic fashion, you’ve piqued her curiosity and probably left her believing the very worst about Mr. Sinclair.”
Permilia turned to Wilhelmina. “Mr. Sinclair, from what I’ve been told, is a shipping magnate who has increased the family fortune exponentially over the past decade. He rarely travels in the highest realms of society, though, given that his fortune is not the three-generations-old that Mrs. Astor claims makes one acceptable.”
Wilhelmina wrinkled her nose. “Is Mr. Sinclair known for shady business dealings?”
“Of course not,” Permilia returned. “He’s from a well-respected family—although I don’t believe they’re originally from New York—and his family members, besides being wealthy, are known to possess remarkably good looks. But that has nothing to do with the subject at hand.” She set her sights on Mr. Rutherford. “What business would Mr. Wanamaker possibly have with a shipping magnate?”
Mr. Rutherford crossed his arms over his chest. “As I said before, Edgar’s business with Mr. Sinclair is his business, and I’m not at liberty to divulge the particulars to you.”
“Fine,” Permilia began with a lift of her chin. “We’ll go track him down and get our answers straight from the source.” She thrust the pink box she was holding into Mr. Rutherford’s hands before she opened up her reticule and pulled out a fistful of coins. Counting them out very precisely, she stopped counting when she reached three dollars, sixty-two cents. Handing Mr. Rutherford the coins, she then took back the pink box, completely ignoring the scowl Mr. Rutherford was now sending her.
“This is not the amount of money I quoted you for the skates, Miss . . . ?”
“Miss Griswold,” Permilia supplied as she opened up the box and began rummaging through the thin paper that covered her skates.
Mr. Rutherford’s brows drew together. “Surely you’re not related to Mr. George Griswold, are you?”
“He’s my father,” Permilia returned before she frowned and lifted out what appeared to be some type of printed form, one that had a small pencil attached to it with a maroon ribbon. “What is this?”
Mr. Rutherford returned the frown, looking as if he wanted to discuss something besides the form Permilia was now waving his way, but he finally relented—although he did so with a somewhat heavy sigh. “It’s a survey, and I would be ever so grateful if you and Miss Radcliff would take a few moments to fill it out, returning it after you’re done to a member of my staff, many of whom can be found offering hot chocolate for a mere five cents at a stand we’ve erected by the side of the lake. I’m trying to determine which styles of skates my customers prefer, and after I’m armed with that information, I’ll be better prepared to stock my store next year with the best possible products.”
“Far be it from me to point out the obvious, Mr. Rutherford, but one has to wonder about your audacity,” Permilia said. “It’s confounding to me that you’re so successful in business, especially since not only are you overcharging your customers for the skates today, you also expect those very customers to extend you a service by taking time out of their day to fill out a survey for you. And then, to top matters off nicely, instead of extending those customers a free cup of hot chocolate for their time and effort, you’re charging them for that as well.”
“I’m a businessman, Miss Griswold—as is your father, if I need remind you. I’m sure he’d understand exactly what my strategy is here today, as well as agree with that strategy.”
Permilia stuck her nose into the air. “You may very well be right, Mr. Rutherford, but . . .” She thrust the box back into his hands. “Since I’m unwilling to pay more than I’ve already given you for these skates, I’ll take my money back, if you please.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mr. Rutherford said, thrusting the box right back at Permilia. “Now, if the two of you will excuse me, I have other customers to attend to.” With that, he sent Wilhelmina a nod, scowled at Permilia, and strode through the snow back to his cash register. He immediately took to smiling a charming smile at the line of young ladies who’d gathered around the pink boxes, none of them appearing to be perturbed in the least by the price Mr. Rutherford had set for the skates, especially since most of them were already waving money his way.
Taking hold of Permilia’s arm, Wilhelmina couldn’t help but grin when she saw the sparkle in her new friend’s eyes. “You’re a little frightening. You realize that, don’t you?”
“I’ve always enjoyed a rousing barter, but I must admit that I didn’t truly know whether or not I’d win this round in the end.” Permilia smiled and nodded to an empty bench by the side of the ice. “Shall we see if Mr. Rutherford’s skates are worth the exorbitant price he’s asking for them?”
“You didn’t pay what he was asking for them, and I, well, I didn’t pay anything at all, since Edgar purchased the skates for me in advance,” Wilhelmina pointed out.